Sunday
by Light Through The Veins
Summary: Sunday, in the brown, white and yellowish diner, sits a robin who wonders where she's going. A story in four parts inspired by the song "Sunday" from "tick, tick... BOOM!"  COMPLETE
1. Prologue

The sun beat down heavy and warm outside the brown, white, and yellowish diner. Across the street, children were playing in the park, couples were taking strolls, and many people dressed in nice clothing - one would assume they had just got out of Mass or whatelsehaveyou on a late Sunday morning - were wandering aimlessly, out and about. Ah yes, peace and calm serenity, just as a nice park should exhibit on such a day. Inside that one specific diner, however…

"Straight back and to your left!"

"Pick up those fucking eggs!"

"Ring ring, we're out of milk!"

"Who took my rye bread?"

"I'll get it right away!"

"Four waters to table seven!"

"I'm sorry, we don't deliver on Sundays."

"Uh, is there a list?"

"Harrington? Harrington?"

"Is something burning?"

"Kaplan. K-A-P-L-A-N, for seven."

"No, I'm sorry, those people were here first."

"We don't have tables for seven!"

"An hour-long wait, are you crazy?"

Structured chaos.

Amidst the confusion and calamity, a scarlet robin - between dusting off her apron, picking up orders, and dropping off meals at the many overflowing tables around her assigned area of the eatery - wondered why the place she was employed at had been titled "Coffee Shop" if it didn't just serve coffee alone, but, rather, catered to a mob of patrons who would ask for regular food one would eat at breakfast and lunch, and furthermore, pay eight dollars or more for a cup of joe and some pancakes. She was sleepwalking through her job, eyes showing little to no life or emotion while the gears ticked and turned behind her head, when a simple yet familiar voice brought her out of her reverie.

"Heyyyyyy, Margaret!"

She noticed that sing-song voice the moment it hit her ears. She looked down to see the blue jay who had called her name; he was sitting in a booth with three others. A soft smile came across her beak as she began to ignore the commotion wracking the rest of the diner. "Hey Mordecai!" She scanned the figures in the booth quickly to see if she might know anyone else the bird was dining with. She immediately recognized the raccoon next to him as the one who was inseparable from Mordecai; the other two - a gumball machine and a lollipop man - she had only seen in passing before. She assumed they were the other two's employers, based on the stories they had told her. "So, what're you guys doing here?" She asked, getting ready to take their orders.

"We-elll…" Mordecai continued in that voice of his as he pointed to the two men across the table, "Pops and Benson here managed to find a bunch of money lying around in the park."

"We could not find the owner," the lollipop man addressed as Pops said in his positively upper crust yet naïve tone. "We searched all morning for the fellow!"

"Turns out there was a note left with the money," Benson, the gumball machine, said. "Apparently, whoever found the money got to keep it!"

"So Benson said he'd treat us to brunch!" The raccoon exclaimed excitedly, a wide grin plastered on his face as he bounced up and down.

"_As long,_" Benson said, glaring slightly at the raccoon, "as you two _behave_ yourselves."

"Hey man, cool it down," he replied, putting his paws up in defense. "Don't drop your balls on account of us," he muttered, not as quietly as he had hoped.

As Benson was about to retaliate, Margaret let out a small giggle. "Well, I'm happy for you guys-"

"Margaret!" A voice boomed from across the crowded room, making the robin freeze in terror. "Cut the chit-chat, you have a lot of tables today!"

"Yes, sir!" She called back, watching as the owner of the voice slowly faded into the noisy background. She let out an audible groan. "Ugh. Sorry about that, guys."

"No, it's cool," Mordecai said understandingly.

"So, what can I get you all to eat?"

She took their orders and walked off to get them into the kitchen. As she began to journey through the madness that would soon envelop her, she momentarily felt something staring into her back; not a harsh glare, which is what she would normally receive from her customers, but a kind pair of eyes, comforting, reassuring…

She brushed it off and retreated into her lifeless, serving state.

Had she not done this, she may have heard the explosion of noise behind her as another waiter slipped and collapsed on the harsh ground, a tray of finished plates fallen on the floor beside him, and a soft round of applause followed by a small voice proclaiming: "Good show, jolly good show!"

Yup. Just another ordinary Sunday.


	2. Order

Order.

Table Sixteen.

Two eggs and a bagel with orange juice.

A short stack of pancakes with hash browns and milk.

A BLT with a water; hold the mayo.

And… and…?

"_I'll have the Salad Niçoise and some honey bread._"

"Anything to drink?"

"Mmm… no, I'm fine."

"Alright, then."

"Actually, wait."

"Yes?"

"I'll have a water, too."

"Alright. So that's…"

Her mind was there. Her body was there. She, as a whole, was there, taking an order, listening to the words coming out of the others' mouths and writing them down haphazardly yet legibly on a small piece of paper that she would later give to someone else, and, before long, would end up in the dumpster outside. And she would continue to do that day after day, around the clock, until the day arrived where… but yes, that was her life. She was there. Only…

"No."

Her heart wasn't in it.

"I'm sorry?"

"Two waters, a milk, and an orange juice. Not two milks."

"Oh, I'm sorry… yes, I have it written down. Two waters, a milk, and an orange juice. Will that be all?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll be right back with your drinks."

As she walked toward the kitchen, she could hear something being muttered from the table she had just left, but she didn't pay attention to the words. She didn't give an iota of care on what they thought about her as a waiter. Sure, it was her life; but she wasn't living it. She entered the kitchen and hung the order up, sighing deeply.

"What's up?"

The voice grabbed her attention. She turned and looked over at the speaker. "Oh, hey, Dianne." The brunette stared at the robin, waiting. She scratched at her clean face, put her curly hair behind her ears, fixing it up, and tapped her red-polished fingernails on the stainless steel counter that she was leaning on.

"…Well?"

"Huh?"

"Damn, you're _really_ out of it today, aren't you?" Dianne asked, tossing the bird a bottle of water. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…"

"It's a guy, huh? Yup, totally knew it. Who's the lucky man? Someone I know?"

"No, it's… not a guy."

"Not a guy, huh? Then what is it?"

The robin sighed again, resigning to the persistence of her coworker. "It's not so much what's on my mind as it is what's not." Dianne looked at her in blank astonishment. She then let out a shrill chuckle, patting her friend on the back.

"Margaret, honey, you need to slow down," she explained. "This isn't your entire life. You can't be a brainwashed slave to the American food companies for the rest of your life! Us girls need to stick up for ourselves!" The aggressive twenty-something pumped her fist in the air with determination, her other arm around the robin. "And besides; you still have way more time left to do what you want than I do."

"Come on, Di," Margaret said, pulling away from the woman talking to her. "You're what - three years older than me? Four? I really don't think that makes that big of a dif-"

"Hey, now that you mention it," Dianne continued, completely ignoring what Margaret had been saying, "for all the time we've been here, you've never told me what you wanted to do in life. 'Cause I sure as hell know it ain't waitin' on tables all day long. So what is it?" Margaret took pause to think. What did she want, again? Was it… could it have been… what? What was that noise?…

"…I-"

"Hey, you slackers!" The figure yelled, entering the kitchen and pointing at the two who were conversing. "Get back out there and take more orders!"

"Yes sir," the two said in unison, though one with far more attitude than the other. The figure squinted and walked past them, muttering something about not paying them to stand around talking. The two exited the kitchen to their respective areas.

"He pays us?" Margaret let out a small snicker in response to her coworker's comment before returning to the world of servitude.

* * *

"Did you guys enjoy it?"

"Yeah!"

The table resounded with approval, empty plates being picked up by the feathered waitress.

"Oh yes, it was very nice indeed!" The lollipop gent said with a complacent smile on his lips and a nod with his enormous, perfectly round head.

"Great, I'll just leave the check here then…"

"Uh, Margaret…?"

"Yes?"

"Do… do you have a minute?" The robin looked at a clock hanging on the wall, and let a small smirk meet her beak.

"Yeah, I usually take a five minute break around now anyway," she said. Mordecai got up from the booth with a grin as Benson scanned over the bill. Pops smiled obliviously, his eyes locked with one of the many pictures of old events and memorabilia that might or might not have been relevant to the district the diner was located in, while the raccoon across the booth frowned, his chin resting on the table as tiny paws fiddled with a small white packet of sugar. He was careful not to open it or accidentally tear it open, as he did not want to incur the wrath of Benson, but he couldn't sit still, either.

"Meet us outside when you're done," the gumball machine called as the two birds walked away from the booth. "And don't take too long!" But the last exclamation was drowned out in the increasing volume of the dining area.

* * *

The two stepped out into the surprisingly cool open air, the door - which led to the side of the diner - closing with a thud behind them. They shivered in unison, looking up in the sky to find numerous grey clouds above them. "Huh, and it was so warm and clear earlier today," the male noted as he looked down the alleyway they were now in. He eyed the steps to the side of the slightly elevated ground he was standing on, which would lead him to the grimy ground in a matter of moments had he decided to walk down them.

"Yeah, the weather's been kinda crazy around here lately," Margaret said in agreement, resting on the railing that prevented her from taking a fall to the dirty earth below. While the rest of the vicinity seemed to be incredibly filthy, both the platform and railing were surprisingly clean, if not a little worn down from years of use. "I come out here whenever I have something on my mind," she said, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Mordecai leaned on the wall next to the doorway, listening to the robin he was so madly infatuated with. "Someday, I'm gonna get out of this dump." The blue jay was stunned.

"You mean, you… don't like it here?" The robin replied with a soft hum.

"The city is alright," Margaret replied, taking a deep breath of air. "Actually, I love it. Sitting in my freezing apartment, alone, in the dead of winter, drinking coffee to keep myself warm and sane, getting up in the morning every day to see everyone else lead the same exact life I'm living…" She closed her eyes, letting the visions come to her. "It's hell, but it's home."

"Then why leave?" She turned and faced Mordecai, her back now leaning on the rail.

"It's this job! I mean, I don't want to be a waitress for the rest of my life! You don't want to keep working in that park forever, do you?"

"Uh…" Mordecai had to think about that one. Come to think of it, he hadn't really planned his future that much since Rigby and he decided to work at the park.

"Exactly!" Margaret said, taking the silence as agreement. "I want to _do_ something with my life. Go back to school, get a degree…" She scoffed. "Minimum wage just doesn't cut it anymore. And working in this job… you see a side of people you never thought existed in this day and age." Mordecai didn't know how to react. He wasn't used to seeing her so… cold. Alone. He wanted to do something. He wanted to reach out. Silence rang through the area for awhile, only interrupted by the occasional boisterous laughter of children across the street or a car horn going off in the distance. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, uh…" Mordecai started as he tried to calm himself down, preventing himself from blushing as he made his move. "Well… Benson gave us the day off today, and I was wondering… maybe you might want to… come over to the park and… hang out?" Margaret smiled kindly at the other bird as he stumbled along his query.

"Definitely!" She said, causing Mordecai to brighten up immediately. "Today's gonna be a long one; I could use some time to relax later. I'll meet you there around six?"

"Alright, awesome!" The blue jay responded energetically. Something caused Margaret to look back up at the sky before the two went back into the diner.

"I think the clouds are beginning to part."

* * *

"Here you go, if you need anything else, just call!"

"Waitress!"

"Yes?"

"Could we order our dessert now?"

"Yes, of course."

"Hey, waiter!"

"I'll be there in a moment!"

"One sundae, an apple pie, and a coffee with cream."

"Would you like some sugar with it?"

"Waiter!"

"I'm coming!"

"If I wanted sugar, I would've asked for it, wouldn't I?"

"We've been waiting here for…"

"Right, so will that be all then?"

"I know, I'll say something."

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll be right back."

Through the swinging doors. Again and again. And again. And again.


	3. Tension

While she had been walking to the diner earlier that morning, when the sun was barely peeking out from behind the gargantuan skyscrapers that littered the city surrounding her, she noticed something that made her freeze. This stall in her step was caused by an item her eyes chanced upon while she was sauntering to her job; a sign, white and large, plastered on the front window of the store she had been walking by. Upon the sign there was depicted a face in black ink, with white eyes and pointed ears, staring blankly forward. Across it, there was a large red circle and a slash right through it, and underneath the picture, a sentence. She continued to gaze at the sign and the words printed below for quite some time, before, in fear of being caught, resuming the few remaining steps she had left to her workplace.

* * *

Tension.

"I knew it."

She turned to the direction of the voice, breaking from her reverie. "What?"

"You said it wasn't a guy, but I saw you two earlier…" The brunette stated, leaning in closer to her coworker. "And might I say, not a bad catch."

"What are you talking about?" Margaret asked with fake annoyance, cleaning off the table she was near and removing the plates and cups from the surface.

"That blue jay!" The other replied, cleaning up the table adjacent to her. "You two are obviously a thing." The robin chuckled.

"Mordecai?" She shook her head as she began to wipe down the table. "Nah, he's just a friend." Dianne raised an eyebrow at her friend, to which Margaret scoffed and continued to clean. "Really, he is."

"Whatever you say," the human said, picking up some cups. "And besides, you still got that other guy, what's his name?" The other froze. "How are things going with him?" Her movements stopped completely, and she remained still for quite some time. "That well, huh?"

"Text messages," she said through gritted teeth, picking up the towel she had been wiping the table down on with vigor. "Who breaks up through text messages? I mean, I knew he was prude, but that-"

"Come on honey, you're better off without him," Dianne said, cutting the other off.

"You might be right, but still…" Margaret sighed, resuming her cleaning duties. "I don't want to be alone the rest of my life. And sometimes I wish I could be oblivious and not give a care in the world… kinda like you."

"Sorry, I blanked out for a second there, did ya say something?"

"Never mind…"

"Don't worry about it." The brunette gave the bird an empowering pat on the back. "Love isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Who said anything about love?" Margaret asked, carrying the dirty dishes back to the kitchen with her partner. "I just want someone to be with."

"Again, I don't understand you, kid." Entering through the double doors, they set the objects in the sink for the other staffers to take care of them. "That's not a one way street. You have to give if you want something in return."

"You and Bill, for example," Margaret continued, seemingly ignoring what Dianne had just advised, "you always say how you hate him. How you wish you two had never been married. But you always have him. He's always there. That's what I want. Minus the hating."

"Girl, you have to understand something." Dianne began to grab a few trays with food on them. "He and I… we get into fights. We yell at each other. Hell, there are days when I wish we'd never met. But…" She smiled complacently toward the bird. "I'd never leave him. And it's not because I don't want to be alone. I've shown that I'm perfectly competent on my own. It's because I love him."

Margaret groaned as she too began to grab several trays. "That's what I thought about Slasher, too. Turns out I was just being ignorant."

"Are you saying I'm ignorant?"

"Of course not!" Margaret retaliated, setting the trays down momentarily as she rubbed her head ferociously.

"You look angry."

"He said he didn't want to be around…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as it had originally been intended. "…people like me. In public. Because of the bad rep "our kind" has been getting around here lately," she finished, air quoting.

"Like I said; he's a jerk. Not for you. Move on."

"How can I "move on" when the person I thought could be the one I would spend the rest of my life with has just told me that I'm a…" She stopped as before, shaking her head. "I'm just not ready for a new relationship. Especially not now."

"Hey!" The two turned as their manager again yelled across the kitchen. "What did I tell you two about slacking? Get back to work!" They nodded as he disappeared.

"I can't believe we still work here, you know."

"I can't believe you do," Margaret said, picking up her trays and preparing to take them out. "Bill has a job, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, but I'd go crazy if I was cooped up in that house all day," Dianne replied. "Gives me some kinda purpose in life, I guess. What about you?"

"This job is all I have left. Without it…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. She didn't want to know what may become of her if she lost her job. It seemed to her that it was destiny for her to just work in that coffee shop for the rest of her life, and that she was useful for nothing else. It was as if she was only a cardboard cutout of her true self… a real part of her that the rest of the world would never see.

"Well, you might want to make a move on that blue jay soon. Or someone else might," the other said in a teasing voice before leaving the kitchen, removing herself from Margaret's line of vision.

* * *

Margaret liked Mordecai's company. She thought that he was a cool guy, and great to be around. She smiled to herself as she thought about the other bird's seemingly constant happy attitude whenever she was around him. But the more she thought about it, the more she began to fear.

Did she like him? Not just as a friend, but… as a lover? Her feathers began to stand on end as she continued to ponder the situation. Did he like her the same way? What Dianne had said began to get under her skin. Mordecai had been wanting to spend more time with her lately… usually it had been Rigby and Mordecai together all the time. It was always odd to see one without the other, in her eyes. She contemplated the meaning behind all these acts.

Her mind was beginning to drive her insane. Why was she only now thinking about Mordecai on terms of a higher relationship? Had it been what Dianne had told her? Was it the fact that the only long-term boyfriend she'd ever dated had just broke up with her? Or was it simply that they were of the same kind; birds of a feather, so to speak? She scoffed at herself for using such a common and moronic adage. Her thoughts continued to wander, not knowing whether or not relationships were for her… not knowing if that one boy she had known for so long could possibly be the one for her. She liked him… but she didn't know if…

* * *

"What is this?"

"I'm sorry?"

"_I asked for the omelette with no yolks._"

"Oh… I'm so sorry, I'll have that fixed right away."

"_That's why you're just a waitress._"

"Right… sorry again. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, we're fine. Thank you." The voice was stern and uncompassionate.

"Okay. I'll be right back with your food." But as she left, she could hear the low whisper that the crass man tried to conceal.

"Can you believe they still let _them_ work at places like this? So incompetent."

She passed through the double doors and stopped moving. She thought she had lost control. Her love life, her social status, everything… it was almost as if it had already been set out for her. That she would never fall in love and get married, and that she would forever be seen as someone who could never accomplish anything because of the way she looked like. Because of who she was. The sign she had seen at the beginning of the day implanted itself in her mind - an image she could never erase. And that one sentence below it that made her body cringe. She hated it with a passion, and yet, at the same time, her body remained limp as it stood still, as if it had lost the will to keep moving. To live. She didn't want to continue life in this world; she wanted to huddle in the corner of the room, cry into her knees, and fade away from the earth altogether. After all, who would miss her? She felt so worthless, so insignificant…

She continued to walk. She wouldn't let it beat her. Not without a fight.


	4. Balance

The grace of a dancer.

Her talons moved swift and light across the dull brown flooring. Her feathered wings brought down trays of food and drinks with such precision that even the most stubborn of guests brought forth a saying of gratitude. And that would make her smile in return, if even for a moment.

The buoyancy of a feather.

It was as if she barely touched the ground, moving from table to table with her hands filled with beverages, meals, and utensils of every size, shape, and color. Yet she kept up with the pace of the customers, as well as that of the cooks and chefs in the kitchen. There was a timing present that no ordinary patron would comprehend. And she continued to glide.

The beat of…

Her feet stopped for just a moment to let a family who had just finished dining exit their booth and leave the establishment. She began to pick up the plates, bowls, and other items, when her eyes caught something she had not expected.

"Sir!"

The man, who was carrying his sleeping daughter in one arm, and was about to reach for the door handle with his free hand, turned around as he heard the voice coming at his direction. Standing in front of him was the robin who had been waiting on them, presenting a small doll fashioned out of cloth. The doll wore a smile with navy buttons sewn onto her face to act as eyes; the straw hair on top of her head barely touched them. Her clothes were simple and clean; it appeared that she had been taken care of with the utmost delicacy by her owner. "I found it in the booth. Is it your daughters?" The man nodded warily, and, with only a small instance of hesitation, reached forward and took the doll from her outstretched wings. He muttered a note of thanks, and quickly exited with his wife and sleeping child.

She returned to her work. Dancing. Gliding. Waiting. A beat.

Balance.

While cleaning off a small booth right next to a window with a gracious view to the park across the worn-down street, she began to think again. It was something she was not very fond of, as when she began to think, she would get ideas. And in her past, the ideas that she would usually carry on with would result in something terrible occurring. Hence, she would be very conserved in where her mind would take her. Nevertheless, she started to think, and in her thoughtful pondering, she looked out across the street to see what her eyes would bring her.

She saw a blue sky, clearing as the day had gone on. She remembered her deduction on that truth earlier, when she had been talking to the blue jay. She hoped that the sky would stay like the way she saw it, forever. Plain. Simple. The park was absent of any activity at the moment. She frowned at the waste of a great afternoon. How she longed to be out there, in the sun and taking a stroll. Instead, she was cooped up inside the diner that she loathed so much. Her wings clenched tightly.

"You okay?"

Suddenly, her wings relaxed. She saw a child, no older than ten, walking along the sidewalk. The child was wearing a white silk gown; very lovely, Margaret thought. Her raven hair came to her shoulders, and her dark blue eyes scanned the grass around her. She went to sit down and play with the soft green material that covered the park grounds. The robin could see her move her hands across the wavy emerald strands, feeling each individual sensation the next blade gave her. The prickling feeling brought a smile to the young child's face.

"Hey."

The child looked at her direction. Her hand stopped moving. Time stood still.

"Anyone in there?"

For a brief moment, she turned and looked at the woman next to her. She saw Dianne's face, then turned her attention back toward the scene she had been watching..

The girl was gone.

The avian let out a disappointed sigh, and then resumed wiping down the table. Dianne began to clean the one opposite Margaret. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Silence invaded the two's short-lived conversation. Mindless chatter went on about them; words breathed into existence by those dining which had no effect on either of the workers. They scrubbed furiously at the table surfaces, making sure they looked clean so that they would not be reprimanded for poor work. Customers took no notice of the two, just as they ignored what was going on around them. Margaret closed her eyes and thought of the outside again, not wanting to get her hopes up on looking out the window and perhaps seeing that girl again.

And then, Margaret caught something. She wasn't sure if it was Dianne who had said it. Maybe it had been one of the people holding a conversation elsewhere in the room. But her ears had picked it up, and she heard it loud and clear. She smiled.

"We should get some music in here."

And she agreed.

* * *

The crash disrupted the peaceful chaos that had been going on inside the eatery.

"What happened?"

Thankfully, nobody had been injured.

"Oh my God."

"Wow, that looked like a nasty fall."

"Tee hee…"

No one moved to help her up. She stayed there, the trays strewn all over the cold ground. Coming to her senses, she began to brush herself off, trying quickly to get to her knees and pick up the mess she had made.

There was no way she could've seen the banana peel some ignorant kid had thrown on the ground without a second thought. Whilst she had been moving from one empty table to the next, picking up leftover food and glasses, her gliding step unfortunately collided with the object on the floor.

She picked up the items, including the peel, put them on the trays, and struggled to her feet. She looked at the dark figure looming over her. "What happened?" He repeated. The patrons remained silent, not wanting to interfere with the management and remaining quiet about the whole ordeal. The bird simply took a deep breath in and attempted to move past the stoic shape in front of her, plates in hand. It would not move. It gazed down at her with anticipating orbs.

She backed up, and walked away from the aisle of tables she was standing in, deciding that she would find another way into the kitchen, and would deal with the wrath of her manager at a later time. For this one moment, she wanted to be alone. She wanted to disappear. And in this wanting, to her dismay, she had begun to think again. She hated thinking.

As she entered the kitchen, her eyes were stinging. She threw the trays into the sink. She leaned against it, trying to compose herself. Her mind trailed back to that little girl. She saw that pastoral scene; the child playing and smiling happily. She closed her eyes. She saw herself as the little girl. A small red robin, sitting in the glades, peaceful and undisrupted. Calm. At ease. Free. She gritted her teeth. The skies would remain blue forever, and she could remain balanced on those young talons of hers, picking at a flower sticking out of the green, grassy ground. She saw a dark figure approach her. Telling her that it was time to go.

Time to leave it all behind.

She didn't want to go.

She was brought back to the kitchen.

The manager had walked back in.


	5. Brunch

**A/N:** My most sincere apologies to the delay in getting this chapter out. Personal conflicts resulted in the one week delay. Another sorry for an error that this story has with the show; in both this chapter and the previous one, I mention Margaret looking out the window and seeing the park on the other side. Upon rewatching one of the episodes of Regular Show, I now realize that this is impossible, as the shop is not on ground level as I thought it was. Rather, it is slightly underground. So she can't look out the window. I did not find this out until after I had written the majority of this chapter, so it was far too late to go back and change everything. Sorry again for this mistake.

Despite all the crazy mishaps on the road to completing this story, please enjoy this next installment of Sunday. Thank you very much for reading, and be sure to leave a review at the end!

* * *

Pain.

That one word summed up the complete and total agony flaring up inside of her. The burning was so intense that she could almost feel every individual feather on her body stand on end. She kept her eyes closed, wishing that she could find a way to escape this cruel torture. She tightened her shut lids further, preparing for the blow that was sure to come shortly.

* * *

Earlier in the day, she had been staring out one of the many windows in the diner, much like how she had been doing so when she saw the small girl in the park. This window, however, gave her a different view completely; one she did not like. There were two men talking to each other. One was wearing a normal, casual outfit that was perfect for a Sunday afternoon; the denim jeans covered his lower half at an average length, and a small black tank top adorned his chest and back. His blonde tuft of hair sat still on top of his head, and he looked at the man he was talking to with little interest. She stared at him with disgust, only then realizing who the person was.

Her ex was talking to a man wearing a formal suit and a cap; she thought of him akin to a Nazi officer. The silver cross patched onto his sleeve didn't help his case, either. They were discussing something, but she could not make out the words which they were exchanging. A chill ran up her spine as she continued to watch. She noticed Slasher point in the direction of the Coffee Shop. The suited man looked her way. Her eyes met with his. A million thoughts rushed through her head. In those eyes, she could see nothing but hate and destruction. She knew that he was up to no good. She feared what Slasher had told the man.

The man did not break eye contact with her for what seemed like decades. Eventually, she looked away, and resumed her cleaning duties around the diner. The feeling that she was being watched did not leave her.

* * *

"Do you understand?"

She opened her eyes as she was brought back to reality.

"I'm sorry. What?"

The dark, tall figure in front of her groaned in disappointment. "You can't keep screwing up like this! One more mistake like this, and-"

"I get it," Margaret responded, putting her wings up in defense. "I know." The figure sighed.

"No. I don't think you get it." She squinted as the blinds opened, and light flooded the dark room. The one she was talking to peered out the window. "Times are changing. I don't know how much longer I can keep your kind employed…" She tensed up.

"A-are you firing me?" She asked somewhat desperately.

"No. But you need to be careful."

* * *

Her mind traveled back to the pasture. She was so young, so pure… she hummed to herself as she picked a daisy from the grass. The skies darkened as the figure approached her. "Daddy!" She exclaimed happily, running toward the taller robin. She smiled up at her father, reaching up in hopes of being picked up. Instead, the bird patted her on the head. With a grin, she settled for it. "Here daddy," she said, handing him the flower in her wings, "I picked it for you!" He chuckled heartily.

"It's lovely, honey," he replied in a rich baritone. He put the daisy in his chest pocket, letting it hang out lazily.

"Do you want to stay and play with me, daddy?" She asked, sitting down on the wavy green. She sat up tall, eager for her father's response. He shook his head solemnly. Her smile disappeared.

"Sorry, honey," he said, patting her head again. "Daddy's very busy today. Maybe some other time." Her beak morphed into a sad frown as her father walked away, disappearing from sight. She began to worry, standing back up.

"Daddy?" She asked, calling out to the nothingness. A thick fog enveloped her. She couldn't see an inch past her beak. She looked all around herself, trying to find something, anything. A ghastly wind blew through her, bristling her feathers. She was almost knocked off her feet, when everything seemed to change.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in the middle of a room. Looking behind her, she noticed a door. A front door. She turned forward and saw another robin in the room adjacent to her; this one was not her father, but she felt a similar, parental vibe coming from the adult. "Mommy, when is daddy coming back?"

"Margaret, your father isn't coming back."

The words stuck to her like glue on paper. She didn't want it to be true, but deep down in her heart, she knew that nothing would change that fact.

She remembered that moment for the rest of her life. And from that point on, whenever someone would mention parents - especially one's father - she would cringe before resuming her conversation. It was only a matter of time before her dad became a distant memory, like someone she didn't recognize at all…

She was younger again. Much younger. Her father had taken her to a diner, much like the one where she currently worked at. They were eating food; her father loved breakfast, and was eating eggs and flapjacks. She stole a bit of hash browns while he wasn't looking. They talked. They laughed. They smiled. They left, making sure to tip the waiter generously for his hard work.

They left the blue, chromium eatery with a spring in their step, the auburn door only a few feet away. She could feel the tears beginning to burn in her eyes. Why couldn't things go back to the way they were?

She hated him.

* * *

"Remember, you're working overtime for that mess!"

Emerging from the room, she felt as if the world was beginning to collapse around her. That she was the only thing the entire planet had anything against, and that it wouldn't stop until she was completely and utterly miserable. Her love life had been destroyed, her job had been jeopardized, she had been publicly humiliated at her workplace, she had been reminded of her troubled childhood; and what, in the span of five, six hours? She groaned as she held her head in agony.

Her mind went back to the man who had been talking with Slasher earlier that day. She hated them, too. The words both of them had used to describe her- no, she told herself, people _like _her, as if they were vermin. Freaks? Really? What had she done to discredit her own name to society? She couldn't wrap her head around the discrimination. The way everything was slowly falling apart around her made her head swirl.

She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted her life to go away. She didn't want to take it anymore. But at the same time… she stood up tall. She couldn't let the daily humdrum of everything around take advantage of her. She began to walk, taking one step after the next, to exit those double doors, walk around tables, inquire guests as to what they wanted, and-

She stopped dead in her tracks. It was then that she realized that it would be how she would live the rest of her life. A waitress, waking up every weekend to go that same, meaningless job, and pretend that all was well and fine on a seemingly normal afternoon, waiting on people who came to escape their own lives for whatever reason they may have so that they may enjoy a simple meal. A normal Sunday…

Brunch.

* * *

**A/N:** I didn't like this chapter. The epilogue is next week.


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue

The bell dinged as the final customer left the diner.

Her uniform was dirtied to the point where there were barely any visible spots of white remaining, as the majority of it had been messed with coffee, salad dressings, or some other substance. She sighed as she walked into the back of the coffee house to change. Everyone had left. She was the only one there.

She let herself smile solemnly, despite the fact that she had the feeling that she would go gray any second. She liked these moments when she was alone, and could think to herself without any other disturbances. She shed the dirtied outfit and hung it up on a rack, leaving her in denim cutoffs and a plain white t-shirt. She had been hearing the pitter-patter of rain all throughout the later part of the day. She quickly thanked any god that might exist that she had brought the silver hoodie that she was now putting on.

The bell dinged once more. Crap. Another customer.

She groaned as she began to walk out of the room, cursing herself for having not put up the "CLOSED" sign before changing.

"Sorry, but we're closed," she began, not seeing who it was at first. "I ca-" Her eyes met his. She looked down at him, surprised at seeing him without a certain other whom almost always traveled together with him. "Oh, hi Rigby," she said, smiling at the little raccoon. He had just walked in, closing the umbrella Benson had suggested he bring with him. He was also wearing a trench coat.

"Hey, Margaret," he said in a strange monotone, taking off the outerwear and moving toward a coat hanger near the entrance of the house. "I thought you'd be here," he said with a grunt, tossing the coat over the rack. A small white envelope fell from one of the inner pockets, which he quickly scooped up.

"What makes you say that?" Margaret asked inquisitively. Rigby raised an eyebrow at her, not sure if she had remembered what had happened earlier in the day. Suddenly, it hit her like a ton of bricks. She groaned as she covered her face with her wing. "That's right. Mordecai. The park." She swore under her breath once more, incredulous that she would forget about the conversation she had with the blue jay. Rigby merely chuckled as he pulled up a seat at one of the large tables in the foyer. "Is he mad?" He shook his head.

"Naw. But he freaking flipped out! He was like "whoosh" up the stairs!" He said, laughing as he recalled the experience. "He locked himself in our room. He waited for you for, like, ever, dude!" Rigby giggled hysterically as Margaret sighed, rubbing her head and beak with one of her wings, using the other to support her weight on a counter.

"I feel so terrible," she said. Rigby's laughing stopped. "I should've told him I had to work overtime today…" Silence filled the Coffee Shop as Margaret continued to think about how bad she had been throughout the whole day. Of all that had happened… the banana peel, the man talking to Slasher, him breaking up with her… this one took the cake. "I'm a screw-up," she said admittedly. Rigby looked down at his paws, which were resting steadily on the table. He noticed the lack of a cup of joe, which would normally be present before him. He didn't bother looking to the side, knowing that his friend wasn't beside him at that moment.

He blinked back to reality as a soft cling sounded in front of him. He looked down to see a small cup of coffee in between his paws. "Here you go," he heard Margaret say as the robin pulled up a chair beside him, the legs of the stool scratching audibly against the wooden floor of the shop. "It's on the house. But be careful; it's a little hot." Rigby nodded and mouthed a "thank you" as he began to blow on the drink to cool it down.

"He wanted to give this to you." Margaret looked up as she saw the white envelope in front of her face, the raccoon's arm outstretched. She plucked it from his grip. "Something about helping you get out or something…" she tore open the top of it as she saw a little note inside, as well as other wads of paper. "…I think he was gonna give it to you tonight." She reached inside and grabbed the note, reading it carefully. It was simple and short; Margaret liked that.

**I know it's not much, but still… Hope this helps you find where you need to go.**

**- Mordecai**

She recalled their conversation from earlier… upon looking in the envelope again, she realized that the other papers… weren't any normal pieces of paper. She let a small gasp escape her open beak as she heard a disgruntled groan beside her, along with the clatter of a cup on the table. She smirked as she saw Rigby waving one paw over his tongue, trying to cool it down, while reaching for the napkin holder in the middle of the table with his other. He finally grabbed a napkin and held it to his tongue, somehow hoping that it would help his burnt taste buds.

"I told you to be careful," Margaret said with a small laugh. Rigby glared at her, and then looked at the envelope in her wings. His eyes softened. He removed the napkin from his tongue and resumed blowing on the cup.

"He wouldn't let me see what's in the envelope," he said while performing his task, Margaret looking at him intently all the while. "But I'm not stupid. I know what's in there." She slid the envelope into a small pocket inside of her hoodie. She continued to gaze at him as he finally took another sip of coffee, this time content with the temperature it met his lips at. With a refreshing "ah", he set the cup down on the table once more. "He likes you, you know."

"Yeah, of course," Margaret said with a small shrug. "I like you guys too. We're all really good fr-"

"No," Rigby stated defiantly, stopping the robin mid-sentence. She was slightly taken aback, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. "I mean, he… _really_… likes you. Why else would he give you that envelope? Why else would he want to see you in the park tonight?"

"What? Weren't you gonna be there too?"

"No. I know better than to…" He trailed off. Margaret was frozen now, unable to move. Was he? Had he? Did she feel that… She knew the signs had all been pointing toward him, and she could've sworn she recognized the love he was trying to put forth for her. She clenched her eyes shut, putting her head in her wings; elbows resting on the table. She didn't want it to be true. She didn't want him to love her. And moreover, she hated how Rigby had to be the messenger of all this. The one who made it so clearly visible.

"I know," she said after a few moments of silence. It was now the raccoon's turn to gawk. "I mean, I knew. That he… he…" She couldn't allow herself to finish the sentence, still in disbelief.

"…Then why did you lead him on for so long?" Rigby asked, trying to prevent himself from exploding with anger. "Why… if, if you knew that he felt that way about you? Do you like seeing him suffer? Is it something like that?" Margaret shook her head violently in defense.

"No, no!" She said, putting her wings up in front of her body, as if trying to shield herself from the verbal assault. "I mean…" She sighed, placing her head in one wing once again. She took a deep breath in before continuing. "I've always been… a rebel. Going against status quo. My dad… he was a robin, like me and my mom. He left us… when I was very young. I never forgave him for abandoning us like that. I told myself that I would build myself up to become successful, and… and good at… something! Anything!" She chuckled, reminiscing about her ambitions as a young fledgling. "And I told myself that, no matter what happened… I wouldn't fall for another bird. Especially a robin. I mean… it's not that I don't like Mordecai. I really like him. I've just found myself exclusive to others… but I guess that's stupid in itself, isn't it?" She let a solemn smile meet her beak. "Yeah, I'm pretty stupid for trying to be… different, when all I'm doing is being… being…" She let her words disappear into the air before her, not able to find ample words to finish her sentence. "You know what I mean?"

"Wait. Hold up," Rigby said, putting his paws up. "So…" He looked at her in wonder. "You're _not_ a cardinal?" Margaret stared at the small mammal for a few seconds, and then burst out into uncontrollable laughter. She began to caw hysterically, unable to bring herself to stop. Rigby laughed along with her, letting the humor dissolve the tension within the discussion.

"Oh, Rigby," she said, wiping tears out of her eyes while gasping for breath. At last, she stopped laughing long enough to give the raccoon a playful punch on the shoulder. "What would any of us ever do without you?"

"I know!" Rigby said smugly, puffing his chest out with his paws on his hips. "You guys need me to survive!" Margaret giggled, covering her beak with a wing as she did so. Silence soon filled the shop once more as Rigby took another drink of his warm beverage.

"You know," Margaret said, tapping on the table thoughtfully, "I may just take Mordecai up on his offer." Rigby looked up from his coffee and directed his gaze toward the robin. She winked at him. "You can't tell him yet, though, of course." The raccoon chuckled, moving a paw in front of his lips quickly, as if zipping his mouth shut.

"Your secret's safe with me," he said as he continued to chortle, thinking in the back of his mind that there was no way that it could possibly last. His eyes soon found their way to something in the corner of the large room they sat in. "What's that?" He asked, pointing toward the large object. Margaret looked in the direction where the raccoon was designating.

"Oh," she said. It was a very big something, whatever it was. It was covered in white sheets, covered with dust. It seemed almost forgotten, sad and alone in the dark spot of the shop. She got up and walked toward it, Rigby scurrying after her. "It's just an old piano," she said, removing the sheets to reveal just that. She coughed as the dust spread everywhere, getting all over the walls and floor. Rigby coughed as well, waving a paw in front of himself to try to guide the particles somewhere else. "Don't know why we ever put it in here. No one ever uses it. I guess it was for open mic nights or something. I'm thinking we might have one sometime in the future, so we could use it there…" She said, scratching her head with a feathered finger as she pondered the possibilities. "But until then, it's been here. And will stay here. Just collecting dust." She patted the musical instrument with care. Rigby noticed a small stool positioned behind the keys of the piano, in perfect height and alignment. He smiled as he hopped up on the seat, lifting up the cover of the keys.

"You know," he said, pointing to himself in a very outlandish and heroic manner, "I am quite a virtuoso myself." Margaret stifled a laugh as he said those words.

"Somehow, I doubt you even know what that word means." Rigby shot a piercing look in her direction.

"Hey, do I need to tell you about the time of… _'The Power'_?" He asked, making sure to take pause for dramatic effect.

"Yes, I think you do," she said, pulling up a stool from one of the other tables and sitting down on it next to the piano and raccoon. Her beak grew wide with excitement and awe as Rigby proceeded to tell her a story about how he and Mordecai once found an enchanted keyboard, and how they used it to go to the moon in order to save one of their friends and coworkers, Skips. "I don't think I've ever seen this Skips. What's he like?" He told her about the yeti-man, and how he was very secretive and didn't like being disturbed when he retreated to the forest. As he finished telling her about the story of The Power, Margaret leaned against the piano thoughtfully. "You know, I'd give anything to go on those sorts of adventures with you guys. Beats this hellhole of a job, that's for sure."

"Hey, our job isn't wine and roses either, lady," he said. "But who knows; with Mordecai for a guy, you just might be dragged into one or two of our crazy shindigs," he finished, giving a small pump with his arm.

"Well, if you're so good with the piano like you said, then why don't you play me something?" She asked. Rigby smiled at her as he started to move his paws across the keys. They both cringed as the sound that emitted grated their ears.

"Hold on, I don't think this thing is in tune…" he muttered, opening up the top of the piano and climbing inside to muddle around. Margaret heard the turning of strings and plucking of metal pieces as the raccoon did his work. "Ahuh… mhmm… Ah, here we go!" He popped back out and sat on the stool, not a scratch on him. He proceeded to play a simple tune that lasted approximately six seconds.

"That was nice," Margaret said with a grin, applauding for the performer. He mock bowed as the bird before him continued to clap.

"That was the tune we used to convince Benson to give us a raise," he said proudly. "'Course, we had to give it back to him later, 'cause he's a loser like that, but it still counts!"

"Can you play anything else? Maybe I can try!"

The two laughed and played as the night went on, and soon the moon would give way to the rising sun. At least the bird didn't have to work the next day. And she was thankful that, at least for these few hours, she could forget about the chaos that she was experiencing, and could lose herself in simply music. They continued to play on that instrument, creating music and notes that would mostly go sour, but would sometimes result in something illustrious and beautiful.

"Your voice isn't half bad."

"Neither is your playing."

"You know," Rigby said, while they were busy composing an interesting little number, "I could do this forever." Margaret laughed alongside the raccoon, patting him on the back.

"So could I."

His paws bounced off the keys as she began to sing. And as she opened her beak to let the musical lyrics come forth, she thought to herself_._

_What a way to spend a day._

The End

* * *

_"Sunday in the blue silver chromium diner  
On the green purple yellow red stools  
Sit the fools who should eat at home  
Instead they pay on_

_Sunday for a cool orange juice or a bagle  
On the soft green cylindrical stools  
Sit the fools drinking cinnamon coffee  
Or decaffeinated tea  
Forever_

In the blue silver chromium diner  
Drips the green orange violet drool  
From the fools who'd pay less at home  
Drinking coffee light and dark

And cholesterol  
And bums, bums, bums, bums bums bums bums bums

_People screaming for their toast  
In a small SoHo Cafe  
On an island into rivers_

_On an ordinary_

_Sunday!  
Sunday!  
Sunday!..._

_Brunch." - _Jonathan Larson

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has read this story, and a big thanks to the late great Jonathan Larson, without whom this story would never exist.


End file.
